Sweet Imprisonment
by Chikusan
Summary: No matter where they are, love refuses to part with them. The story of a dying man and a girl with a shattered heart and how they meet once more.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** This story is based off a timeline in which the members of the Shinsengumi have not died yet, except for Kondo Isami, who has already been executed prior to the downfall of the Shinsengumi. Most of this story will focus on Okita Souji and will be written in both of their point of views, but most of the feelings will belong to Okita.

Please note that the rasetsu or furies do not exist in this story, nor do demons or oni. This means Chizuru is a perfectly normal girl and has no special powers whatsoever. Enjoy!

Also, ahem. No happy endings here. You have been warned.

Reviews are appreciated!

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「 甘い懲役 」

 **Prologue**

* * *

"The shattering of a heart when being broken is the loudest quiet ever."

* * *

The war was over.

They had lost.

The Satsuma-Choshu alliance had prevailed in the end. All the efforts the Shinsengumi, the Wolves of Mibu, had fought for was lost and forgotten.

And with that, the Shinsengumi were branded as the villains. Ruffians who defied their ways, rejected them, fought them and spilt blood. And they deserved their eminent deaths. The Shinsengumi, their captains and commanders, were to be jailed and trialed for treason. For their part in the war, for the sweat and tears, they were to rot in the cells of the alliance, or be executed without the honour of committing seppuku.

But perhaps the one who suffered the most was young Okita Souji. How desperately he clawed for death. How useless he was now, knowing that the Shinsengumi, whom he served as a living weapon, had fallen out of grace. He was useless now, just an empty shell suffering through endless pain and heaving coughs that ended with splatters of blood. Useless, now, that Hijikata Toshizo was awaiting execution, following the footsteps of the late Kondo Isami. There was no way the Shinsengumi could pick up their feet and return to what they once were. All of them paid the price for what they had done. But Okita did not regret his actions one bit. He did not regret the many lives he had taken. After all, he was known for not having any qualms for ending the life of others. A killing machine. A monster. That was what he was. What else could he live for?

The young man's mind began to wander off, back to the times where his life had been more at peace. A young girl surfaced the memories not tainted by blood and screams of the Shinsengumi men. Friendly, optimistic, amusingly shy. The way her brown eyes always lit up as she served them tea, or her furrowed eyebrows and concentrated look whenever she worked away at their meals. She was always finding herself something to do, sweeping the courtyard or helping Sanosuke with the shopping. Her selflessness and her kindness were something none of them could ever forget.

And those times where she would sit by his futon and calm his writhing body. Place a damp towel over his forehead to cool him down, or wipe off his gathering sweat. Cook porridge, without green onions, and sometimes even feed it to him. Her unconditional love and treatment of him… he hated it. He hated how she always treated him so kindly as if out of pity. There was nothing more he disliked than others pitying him. But she did not care at all. She was stubborn, that one, in the fact that she wanted to care for him. No matter how many times he chased her away, shouted at her and yelled at her, even hurt her delicate feelings and made tears prick the corners of her eyes, the next morning appearing by his bedside once more with slightly red eyes… it hurt him as well, shattering his heart into a million pieces. But he couldn't help but find it endearing. There was no other girl like her he knew.

The first few weeks in the cell, this rotten, stinking cell, he had found himself worrying for her life. What had happened to her? Did she run away and hide herself like any sane woman would? But Okita knew that she did not always made the wisest of choices. All he knew was that he did not see her at the gathering of the Shinsengumi men, tied up and unable to move or draw their swords – if they had managed to sneak any weapons in the first place. But he was glad that she was not among them. Perhaps the Satsuma-Choshu men had not recognized her as one of the Shinsengumi and had let her be. The green-eyed man sighed and closed his eyes. She should be able to live a happy and fulfilling life, no longer bound by the men of the Shinsengumi. She may have been one of them in spirit, but she was not an official member. No harm would befall on her anymore.

* * *

「 甘い懲役 」

* * *

 _The man had ordered the doctor to check over the young man's body to the best of his abilities. Men who were fit and capable were sometimes considered to be enslaved and force to rebuild some of the buildings of the city, scars of the war. But some, who were considered to be dangerous, were to be executed. Especially with men like Okita Souji. The looming, shadowed man was watching the inspection with interest, eyeing the deathly glare that never wavered from the swordsman before him. Yet, instead of the declaring his state of health like he had for the previous hundreds of men, the doctor stood up with an expression of surprise. Moving aside, they began to whisper._

 _"It is in the best interest that we do not move him to the fields to work, my lord." The doctor's voice was stern, but he truly did not care for the future of the young man._

 _"So he will face execution?" The voice was laced with confusion, this indecision had not happened before._

 _"It depends on the decision of my lord. However… I believe that Okita Souji suffers from tuberculosis. His body shows several signs… plus, one of the guards had mentioned his lack of appetite on the way here, my lord."_

 _"Tuberculosis? Is that not terminal? Interesting…" Rubbing his chin, the shadowed man turned his eyes towards the swordsman, whose eyes were still filled with hatred and determination of some sort._

 _Wasted potential. If only he had been working on their side… he would have been a legendary figure._

 _"Let him suffer a painful death. Lock him up." His voice rung out sure and true. And before Okita knew it, he was hauled out of the dark room. And then he was gone._

* * *

「 甘い懲役 」

* * *

"And stay in!" A voice broke through the usual silence of the cell, followed by the sound of a woman, shouting her protests. There was a break of light in the darkness of the room as the door was thrown wide open. What little light the small window at the top of the back wall gave was suddenly amplified by the almost blinding colours from the door that closed Okita off from the world.

A shrill voice rang out. "Stop! Please! Let me go!"

There was a slam, the cell was closed once more.

There was something about it that sounded so familiar. Like he had heard it before. The way the woman's voice brought back a flood of memories, both ones he would rather forget and those he would treasure forever. A voice that made his blood run cold, thoughts of her safety crushed and ruined in a single sweep.

That sobbing, that crying, the collapsing of the body and the gasps for air as the woman began to weep. It was all too familiar. Had she not also did the same when she sat by his futon, clutching at his hand when he had gone through an episode, scarlet blood trickling from the corner of his lips and down, leaving a puddle by the futon? Had she not been crying and begging for him to live and survive and that everything would be alright? She was there, brewing the medicine for him, soaking the medicinal leaves that the doctor had prescribed him, cried when the young man had thrown the bowl to the floor, smashing it and yelling at her to get out.

Because he didn't want to hurt her.

He thought she was safe, in the right hands, away from violence and the terrors of the blade.

But she was here.

Okita had never been afraid before. Not even of death. He embraced it. Those who killed others were always expecting the same fate for themselves.

But for the first time, he was scared.

He opened his green eyes a crack, turning his head from tattered futon that lay spread out on the dusty, dirt-covered floor of his cell towards the door that had just been closed, at the figure who sat there, the back of someone whom he hoped was not who he thought was.

"Chizuru...-chan?"


	2. False Hatred

**A/N:** Reviews appreciated! Not exactly experienced when it comes to writing fanfictions.

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「 甘い懲役 」

 **Chapter One - False Hatred**

* * *

"Hating the one you love is harder than loving the one you hate."

* * *

In his horror, a feeling that weighed heavily down on his chest, even more painful than the coughs and shakes that quaked through his body due to his ailment, began to grow when the woman's sobbing suddenly halted at his voice. Deep inside, he didn't want the figure in front of him to turn around to face him, what might he see, what it could be, frightened the so-called 'fearless' swordsman. In his weakened state, the last person he wanted to see was…

"Okita-san?"

It was her. Yukimura Chizuru, the girl who had always stayed by his side no matter what. Even if he chased her away and hated her for what kind of person she was, how she managed to wound her way into his stone-cold heart and make herself a place there. He had never thought much about finding a woman and settling down, he was a man who liked to be at the top of his game, his guard always up, katana at the ready. Not someone who spent his time with women, unlike Shinpachi and Sanosuke, who loved to sneak out of the building and break the curfew in order to head to the geisha houses. But he could not deny that Chizuru was different, there was something about her, the way she carried herself, the air of innocence that made his heart flutter uselessly. Okita may have met his fair share of voluptuous and lustful women, but the brown-eyed girl was something else.

She was fascinating, stubborn and always seemed to be his source of amusement. She had proved to him, over and over, that she was trustworthy and someone he could rely on. The time he had yelled at her, threatened her not to tell the others of his tuberculosis, he had been surprised that she had indeed kept her mouth sealed. Okita had expected her to immediately inform the others, especially Hijikata, but she had not. The girl had respected his wishes and promised him that his secret would be safe with her.

Not to mention that she barely ever said much about his antics. There were times she would just follow the swordsman around, bugging Hijikata unintentionally. Sneaking into his room and warm their hands by the makeshift heater, tricking her into finding the location of his little white haiku book full of hilarious atrocities that he called 'poems'. Chizuru barely disappointed him. From the day they met in the alleyway, her eyes wide open with fear at the sight before her, to the days she spent by his futon, sometimes even finding her fallen asleep, head resting on his stomach, surrounded by the smell of his medication.

He would never say it, but somehow, somewhat, he had fallen for her. The idea at first was impossible. Him, a man who had never paid much attention to women, a man who spent his days committing sins and slaying men, dedicating his life to it… in love? That was the reason why he never told anyone, it was his secret and only his. No one would take him seriously if they found out that he had developed feelings for the woman who had cared for him almost every day and night. Chizuru would never know his feelings herself… but seeing her always made him smile.

* * *

「 甘い懲役 」

* * *

But not today, not in the cell that he had come to call his home. Sitting there in the clothes of a traveler, her once lively and bright face turned towards him, eyes filled with a new spark of recognition after waves of confusion and sadness. She was dusty, her sandals looked worn and almost broken. There were bruises on her face and her exposed arms. Okita suddenly felt a rumble of energy inside his stomach as if a monster lived there and was readying itself for a battle. He was angry. If only he had not been disabled by the disease that slowly ate away at him, he would have leapt up and killed anyone who had hurt her.

"O-Okita-san?" she repeated, her voice breaking into his chain of thoughts. Her voice changed from confusion into something happier, with a hint of panic and hurt. "Okita-san!" He suddenly felt something grasp at his worn and tired, almost bony hands, holding it gently in her own. The sudden feeling of warm, smooth hands encasing his own reminded him painfully of his bedridden days.

"Chizuru-chan, what are you doing here?" he murmured. He had not used his voice in many moons. It sounded alien, a voice that did not belong to him. But to Chizuru, his green eyes locked with her brown ones, shining with joy upon seeing the swordsman once more.

The young girl was laughing to herself so happily that she could barely speak to respond. "I can't believe it's you!" she said with the warmest smile. It could have lit up the room, the radiance of her smile and her beauty could have caused miracles to happen.

But they didn't. No miracles could change his fate. He was destined to die from tuberculosis.

"What are you doing here?!" Okita sat up abruptly, throwing her hands away from his. With wide green eyes, he regarded her with panic and shock as if he had just registered that Chizuru was here with him in the cramped, dirty cell. An innocent girl like her, in a jail cell with a man who deserved it? What the hell? "How did you get here?! You don't belong here." He was surprised by how powerful his voice was despite his illness. It was energized by a twisted version of what he called love. He loved her, he truly did, and he did want to be with her and stay by her side, protect her and treasure this emotionally delicate person. But she did not deserve to be with a man who was going to die and leave her all by her lonesome. For the exact reason why he loved her, he did not want her to suffer. Because of what he was, he did not deserve her kindness and her loyalty.

"I- I was trying to find the Shinsen-"

"How many times do we need to tell you? You're not one of us! What the hell is wrong with you?" Okita snarled, each of his words like arrows fired from a strong bow, piercing into her heart. He could see her flinch back, shocked at the man's words. Ever since she had tried to care for him, he had always been strict and harsh on her. It hurt him, but it was the only way for her to stay away from him. To his disappointment, it didn't work and never had on the stubborn woman.

Chizuru did not even cry. She simply sat with her legs folded under her, with her head bowed, her brown-black hair falling over her face and hiding her features. From where he sat, he could not see her reaction.

"They caught me… and I was put here. F-for snooping around."

Okita was silent, he could not even bear to look at her.

"Um… Okita-san… where are the others?"

"They're dead,"' His words were blunt and simple, no more walking around it. "Or they will be, soon."

Her eyes widened in shock and surprise. There was no way the Shinsengumi crumbled down so suddenly after they had done so much during the war. They should have been hailed as heroes, not have their men thrown into cells and treated like trash. From here, she could see that he had barely eaten, looking skinnier than ever. Shadowed bags were prominent on his young, handsome face. His emerald-green eyes seemed almost dead and soulless. Covered in grime and old sweat, a man who had once been the feared First Division Captain of the Shinsengumi looked no different than a criminal or a rat.

He looked up at the window, the only source of light in the cell. "I'm only alive because they want me to suffer."

She understood what he meant. His tuberculosis was a painful disease, days and weeks and months of chesty coughs and losing huge amounts of blood. She had personally seen Okita's troubled sleep, tossing and turning and murmuring in his sleep, sweat gathering on his forehead. Every time he coughed, Chizuru felt something inside of her die.

"Chizuru-chan, when do you think I'll-"

"Don't talk about that!" A passionate and worried voice rung out, cutting off his sentence. For the first time in weeks, the man cracked a smile.

"Everyone dies, Chizuru-chan. It's just obvious that I'll go before you." He was met with another frown from the girl. She was always so defiant of the idea of his death. Like it simply should not happen. The way she would always cut him off whenever he mentioned his fate only made tears swell up in her eyes and her becoming angry at him for tossing his life around so easily. She was always so thoughtful, it was adorable. Perhaps the only other person who openly voiced their thoughts about his fate was Kondo. But Kondo was gone. The only person who remained in the world that he had deep feelings for was… Chizuru.

* * *

「 甘い懲役 」

* * *

In the cell, there was no way of telling the time. The only indication was the light of the cell if the sun was rising or setting. For Okita, he had spent so long cooped up in his new home he no longer cared for what the time outside was. The swordsman was never let outside, he was far too dangerous, and his body had grown weary and tired. Chizuru knew this, knew that he could not even hold his sword anymore. A simple stroll or a walk took him too long and always ended in a bout of coughs and splattering of blood. They sat in the cell, with him on his worn futon and worn yukata, stinking of sweat and grime that he did not care much for, his breathing shallow. She was still kneeling on the ground, her eyes and face cast down, her slender hands resting on her lap.

There was a clatter, followed by a hatch at the bottom of the door sliding open, light shining from the slot big enough to fit a meal through. It was always the same thing every day if the soldiers remembered to feed them, of course. Sloppy, flavourless, plain old rice. It was more like porridge than what they claimed to be rice. It wasn't nutritional enough, nor did the man have the heart or the energy to eat it. Chizuru glanced at the no longer steaming pile of food sitting in the chipped, broken bowl it had been served in. A spoon rested beside it, awaiting someone to pick it up. But Okita did not make a move towards what was his only meal for the hours of the night.

"Food is ready."

"You eat it." His voice sounded almost broken and dead.

"Okita-san, you need it more than I do."

"... I don't feel like eating, alright?"

"If you don't eat, I won't either."

Okita blinked up at her in surprise, his green eyes wide open at her statement. Meeting her brown ones, filled with a determination and something else he could not decipher... was it love? Affection? He shook his head, it was just him thinking strange thoughts. After all he had done to her, scaring her and making it seem as if he hated her, there was no possible way that Chizuru would have any sort of positive feeling towards him. He was despicable.

"Please tell me you're joking, Chizuru-chan." Surely, she was not doing this again. It was like blackmail. Almost as if she knew that he had feelings for her. But that was impossible, he had not told anyone about what he felt, nor did he make it too obvious. He felt his stomach twist.

"I'm not!" Now her expression showed defiance that was such a rare sight. It made the young man skip a breath, the way there seemed to be a fire burning her dark brown eyes, not wanting to give in. She was usually very submissive, it must have been quite the experience living in a temple full of men who could easily kill her on a whim. Okita doubted Chizuru would have been able to be dominant in such an environment. Her expression made the man chuckle.

"Heh. Do you want me to feed you, Chizuru-chan~?" he asked her teasingly, grinning at the familiar blushing red cheeks that made her face glow as he leaned in as close as he could without his arms feeling tired from the support. Her name rolled off his tongue like he had said it many times in his life. A habit. He could never get tired of her reactions to his words, she was too easily flustered and the fact that it was his words that made her this way only made him feel good. Somewhere inside of him, he knew that he could never get enough of Yukimura Chizuru and her antics. She truly was adorable. Yet at the same time she could have the same effect on him. Just by being too close to her he could... lose control of himself.

She shook her head vigorously at the swordsman, suddenly feeling shy and self-conscious. She gave him a light and playful push away, another one of her actions that made the man remember bitterly the happier days spent with Chizuru, days where he did not push her away that much, free to walk out with her on his rounds, admire the cherry blossoms and watch the first snows. In every direction he turned when he had been a happy man, he was always met by her smile.

"N-no. I'm good, t-thank you..." she managed to choke out, managing a small, shy smile on her lips that only made Okita's own widen. He was satisfied with her answer. It was good to have company, even if it was someone he did not want to see. What if he died in his cell? She would have to see him disappear from the world and carry that burden with her for the rest of her life. He gritted his teeth, she didn't deserve that.

He lay back down on his futon, bringing the thin sheets to cover his body. Looking at the ceiling, plain and dull, he closed his eyes. There was nothing for him to do except sleep and rest. But without the medicine and the proper food, his tuberculosis only worsened. But was that truly so bad? As long as Chizuru didn't see, he wanted to go with the others. See Kondo one more time.

Taking action, Chizuru moved quickly. Taking the bowl and the spoon, she moved her body next to the futon beside the lying figure of Okita, feeling the fabric under her smooth hands. The thinness of these was nothing compared to the ones he had rested in back in their headquarters. Thick and warm blankets embracing Okita and ensuring he would never get cold. But now, even without touching his skin, she knew - she always knew - that he was not in good condition. Scooping a generous amount of the sloppy rice, she moved it to his lips, resting the spoon upon his dry and thin lips. Furrowing his eyebrows, he moved his head away from her. With a determined look, minutes were spent playing cat and mouse with the swordsman, chasing his lips with the spoon of the food. Even if it wasn't nutritious, food was better than no food.

But even Chizuru had her boundaries. "Don't be mean! Okita-san, eat your food!" she commanded in a stern voice, trying to hold back her tears. It was always painful trying to see him like this, changed and different from the energetic man he once was.

"No chance."

"Okita-san!"

There was a brief moment of silence. Okita sat back up, looking at her intensely. The young girl shrunk back a little, but her eyes refused to break contact with his.

"If I eat a little, will you leave me alone?" he asked her, an eyebrow raising in curiosity.

"I-"

"Just joking," and with that he quickly swallowed the contents of the spoon, without the bother to chew, before settling back down in his futon. His movement had been so quick, the woman had almost missed it as if the rice had just disappeared from the spoon she held. "I'm only eating it because of you."

"Eh?" she blinked at him confusedly.

"You... you're the only one who can do this to me..." he murmured in a low, almost inaudible voice, to no one in particular but himself. He would be extremely embarrassed if she had ever heard what he would say to himself in an odd attempt of reassurance. He muttered about a lot of things, about his life, duty, his purpose. About Hijikata... about Saitou... about Chizuru... Thankfully, she had not caught what he had said, but her face was beaming at him, glad that he had at least taken a bite. It was one step to improving his ways.

Okita couldn't help but smile back weakly. He had a feeling that life in the cell wasn't going to be too dull or boring anymore. He wasn't alone. He had someone by his side this time.

And maybe, he would be able to accept her.


End file.
